


A Rose By Any Other Word

by 1f_this_be_madness



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: 1970s Era Queen (Band), Affection, Affectionate Insults, Band Fic, Banter, Best Friends, Bickering, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Declarations Of Love, Domestic Fluff, Epic Friendship, Explosions, Families of Choice, Family Drama, Family Fluff, Fashion & Couture, Flowers, Friendship, Gas stoves can be a little dangerous, Gen, Gift Giving, Hugs, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Introspection, John is a Good Friend, John's also a great listener and he and Brian have an amazing quiet friendship, Light Angst, Mother Hen Freddie Mercury, Painting, Photography, Protectiveness, References to Depression, Roger Taylor (Queen) Being an Idiot, Roger and Freddie are fashion icons, Sad Brian May, Self-Esteem Issues, Swearing, Sweet John, What-If, flatmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:40:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23950219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1f_this_be_madness/pseuds/1f_this_be_madness
Summary: ...would smell as sweet.What's in a name, William Shakespeare asks, and what's in a friend, or a member of one's family, is a question turning over and over in the mind of Brian May.(Or, Brian sees some flowers and thinks about his family)
Relationships: Brian May & Freddie Mercury, Brian May & Roger Taylor, Freddie Mercury & Roger Taylor, John Deacon & Brian May, John Deacon & Brian May & Freddie Mercury & Roger Taylor, John Deacon & Freddie Mercury, John Deacon & Roger Taylor
Comments: 22
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

Roses.

It's that time in the English spring where it's not so wet and chill as winter and the cool hasn't burned off completely for those few weeks in midsummer that have the tendency to be dry as bone, where you stare up at the sky expecting more than a few whisps of cloud and are either stymied or perhaps disappointed. 

At least that is the case if you are interested in flowers.

Brian May has always been a fan of natural things; of gardening, in the sense of finding pretty plants and cultivating them, helping them grow and remain. Humanity is far more apt to destroy nature, even unintentionally; often through ignorance or by being uncaring, Brian thinks and tries to push the thought away. To stop and stare over the hedges he'd seen, a verdant bit of greenery beside which are curled snarled rosebushes, which he had noted.

Camera hanging round his neck, thank heavens for that, he thought; he can take a photo of these glorious plants fighting their way to showcase their beauty. A bit as the band has done, really; how Freddie had his whole life, sent away as a boy, a move that would have perhaps have stifled less a mobile mind and generous heart, but only made more an exuberant talent return. Then Roger, coiled and ready, angry and loyal; prickly as the rose thorns but soft, beautiful as the petals in the coils of the bush... And John, a bright talent hidden in his own view, almost; most definitely, actually, as Brian recalls the bassist telling them so offhandedly, hesitant that he'd learnt bass after being a rhythm guitarist for a secondary school band and "their bassist needed help, so erm, I learned. As anyone might do, y'know," John had protested, those wide innocent eyes of grey-green like the mossy ground round these roses, Brian thinks. Their brightness sears his retinas, his brain, and he doesn't want to just take pictures of the flowers; he yearns to have them for himself, for the ability to, like Fred, paint the magnificence he is currently seeing. 

He feels a twinge within his chest as he recalls how much his mum likes flowers, roses in particular. Mostly red. Always red. They gave each other flowers a lot, on birthdays and holiday and today was really special, for it's May Day, a time to give thanks for those you love by sending flowers. Brian's heart thuds heavily before settling down in his chest like a dead thing, as he doubts his family will be sending flowers this year. 

But he has more of a family, he thinks now; more than just his parents, he means. He wants to do something for them. 

Determined now, Brian lifts his head after taking snapshots and steps carefully over the hedges, searching out more plants, finding ones it will not harm to take a flower or two; and he returns, fingers and knees a bit dirty and skin sweaty, but standing out the most as Brian enters his band's shared flat is the riot of colour. 

Flowers fill and overflow from his long, thin, bent arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my dears, happy May Day!
> 
> I wanted to write about the boys and something to do with flowers, and of course I thought of Brian and how much he loves nature (he posts so many flower pictures on his Instagram, I think it's amazing) and I heard that he and his family often gifted one another red roses.
> 
> Of course I also thought of that vase of red roses in the music video he made for "Too Much Love Will Kill You", but I wanted this to be a mostly happy piece.
> 
> *Information on John learning bass is something I discovered via research, he was guitarist in a band at school at age sixteen
> 
> *Freddie was parceled off to boarding school as a young boy, and I'm sure that deeply affected his development
> 
> *Roger dealt with abuse as a child, he's never elaborated on the sort, but I definitely think Brian would know of that as a manifestation of his mate being strong
> 
> *And Brian was estranged from his parents for almost ten years on account of quitting school to be a part of Queen...
> 
> This seems like a lot more angst than I intended, but I swear this piece will be nice!
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger has trouble cooking and things get a little ... explosive below
> 
> (No injuries are sustained)

Roger is already inside the flat, as is apparent from the immense amount of noise, if not the general atmosphere of any place Roger is in. A sort of crackling electricity, as it were. Currently he seems to be making it a mission to swear at every single kitchen appliance. This time it's their gas stove. "Oi why don't you heat up right then, you wanking stove, I just wanted some bloody soup to eat and share with'm when Bri gets home --oh well speak of the devil," shaking dark blond fringe out of his eyes, their baleful spark rises to light on Brian's body and face, and "Where the fuck didja get all those flowers??"

"Along the lane," says Brian, trying to hold as many stems as he can in one hand so as to reach up into a cabinet for a vase. "Thought you lot might like them, it's May Day, after all."

Roger sniffs. "Well I dunno 'bout you, but someone's probably going to bloody sneeze and if any bees come along I'm chucking them. Fuck, you need a bloody vase-- oi Deacy, get off your skinny arse and come find some flower...tub or something for Princess Brian!"

The tallest man's shoulders hunch. Even though he knows Rog is only messing-- or at least he's pretty certain once Roger cracks a grin at him and rubs his shoulder before going back to crouching before and swearing madly at the stove-- he automatically assumes the drummer doesn't want the flowers in, how ridiculous was he for gathering up all of them; what an idiot you are, Brian.

But in comes John, whole face brightening in a smile as he sees all of the flowers, and that ever-quiet voice of his suggests "...Freddie found that enormous vase the once, I think it might be a jug."

"--You mean that clunky pink thing that has the pattern of a kimono on?" Asks Roger. "Oh, fuck me, you pisser!" He kicks the side of the oven in anger and aggressively spins the gas dial. "This isn't--"

With an intake of breath as he registers something quickly, "Rogie, wait!"

Brian turned as John came to climb up on the counter and help him look for Fred's vase, and the tallest man's curls fly as the flowers do. He flings out his arms and lunges to turn off the burner as the gas, now lit, causes a sheet of flame to shoot up next to Roger.

The drummer lifts his arms as Brian changes course during the explosion and launches his lean body into Roger's stockier one, one long hand curling round the back of Roger's head as the gas explodes. John, with great presence of mind, ducks underneath the wave of fire that knocked Roger's tin pot off the burner and cranks down the gas to turn it off completely.

The whooshing sound of fire underneath each burner diminishes and then stops completely with a hiss. Smoke drifts up and hovers at the kitchen window. John is up and opening said window as Roger lifts his head up from beneath Brian, who still holds onto him, body pressing down on Rog to protect him. Flower petals and leaves with scorched edges float around the kitchen, and the drummer offers a sheepish smile to Brian, along with an "Oops, sorry...?"

Before Brian can do more than sigh and settle his shoulders, shifting to allow Roger space to stand up, the flat door bangs open and Freddie's voice trills "Good afternoon, my darlings! What--" he stops in the kitchen doorway, eyes tracking across John's backside up by the now open window, wafting residual smoke outside, to Brian now hauling Roger upright by grasping his hand. 

Roger's hair is mussed and he has a bit of flower ash in it. Brian's curls are tangled with leaves and his hazel gaze looks like he's seen far too much in the space of mere moments. 

Freddie puts all of this together, spies scorched stems and crumpled leaves, and the uncooked sludge that was Roger's attempt at soup. With an arched brow and tilted head the singer demands "Roger, what did you do?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Brian was excited about his flowers and then came Roger's abysmal cooking skills... He was very likely hangry, lmao  
> A similar situation happened to me once, thus came inspiration.
> 
> *Freddie's question for Roger came, verbatim, elaborately exasperated tone and all, from behind the scenes of the music video for "I'm Going Slightly Mad" 
> 
> Hope you like this, and don't worry, Bri will still have some flowers of a sort!
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	3. Chapter 3

"Erm, well, Roger should not be cooking," John answers Freddie when Rog is occupied by helping Brian pick and shake leaves out of his hair after smoothing out his own. 

"Oh, piss off, I'll still eat the bloody soup." Roger snaps out, and then he clams up a moment as Brian stoops to gather up flower petals. The blond man's eyebrows draw together a bit and he steps over, swallowing hard before clearing his throat. He puts a hand on and curls his fingers round the guitarist's closer shoulder. "But. Any of your flowers make it, Bri?"

With a slight smile, something flashes in Brian's eyes as he looks up, shaking his head. Curls drape over his cheeks and shoulders as he says "Not many, Rog, but that's alright. No worries," he chokes a little on an attempt at humour, wiggling and extending his fingers to gesture at all the petals around. "They did brighten up the place a bit," Brian's sweet voice is gently dry. "Literally, even. Who knew flower stems were flammable?"

John bursts into laughter after a moment of silence wherein Roger exchanges a glance with him and Freddie. Fred steps over and runs his fingers through Brian's black curls, Roger squeezing his shoulder. Even as the others chuckle over Bri's cheek, the three can tell these flowers mean something more than simply brightening up the place. 

So Roger speaks --softly, for him-- "'M sorry, Bri."

"We must make it up to you, darling," Freddie coos, dropping his head to kiss Brian's. John is quietly gathering the remnants of stems, and locates a couple of flowers that had fallen beside the radiator and weren't too bunged up. 

"Where's that pretty vase of yours, Fred? Or we could use a shallow bowl and float these, here," carefully cupping the bulbs, the bassist goes to a cabinet for a bowl and fills it with water, not too cold or hot. Eyes widening, Roger notes the actions of their bass boy and opens the nearest drawer, shuffling through it for the single pair of heavy metal scissors they have got. 

"Here Deacy," the drummer growls, offering the scissors. John takes and lifts them with a little smile, cutting each flower just beneath the top of the stem so that they will be able to drink, and setting them on top of the water. The flowers swirl in a circle in the bowl and Roger beams as John cups it in his hands and holds out the shallow vase, as it were.

"Here, Brian, some got salvaged after all," and Brian looks up, his eyes brightening as John carries the bowl to place it on their kitchen table, resting in the centre.

Bri stands up, Freddie's arm lowering to wrap around his waist and he in turn puts one around Fred's shoulders. Roger leans against his other side, and "Thank you, Deacy," the guitarist said, watching the flower bulbs turn gently in the water. Four open buds together, he realises. Equidistant and equally balanced, as are they. 

Bri breathes deeply and is able to relax. Roger pats his side bracingly and grabs another bowl, scooping his chunky soup into it. Does his best to eat it, gulping down clumps without making a face as John laughs at him. Freddie stands with Brian, holding onto him securely before offering to brew some tea: "I think we all could use some, you most of all, my Brimi."

"--Probably ought to get some food for us all too, just don't let Roger fix it," John offers, entire face crinkling with mirth as Roger snaps his head up and glowers at the bassist angrily.

"Oi!"

Shaking his head, Brian smiles as light-hearted bickering begins to commence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brian doesn't mind (too much) about losing most of his flowers, he's still got his boys :)
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	4. Chapter 4

As the sun sinks, John and Freddie begin putting things away, as when Freddie had arrived earlier he brought in parcels from the store -- "Since you obviously didn't make it there, Brian," snorts Roger --

"Leave the man alone, he was occupied by far more important things; namely, the art of making this flat colourful and therefore far more fabulous," Freddie flicks his fingers in a proud little gesture, blowing the guitarist a kiss. "Good on you Brian."

"At least we have a few edible things now, since Freddie went to the shops," says John dryly. 

Not looking up from his notebook, which he had grabbed and placed on the table beside the bowl of flowers, Brian twirls a pencil round and utters "Don't let Rog near the stove."

"Oh sod off, I'm not THAT incompetent, it was the stove's own bloody fault for not turning on!"

"Yes Roger, because this inanimate mechanical object run by gasoline clearly has a mind of its own." Brian stares at Roger from underneath his onyx fringe. 

Blue eyes squint into hazel-brown and Rog finally sticks out his tongue and says "Deaks will back me up on this, c'mon Deacy! Don't machines have minds of their own when they're fritzing?" 

John raises his head, hair falling into it before Freddie leans over and gently tucks soft strands behind his ears. The bassist flushes, still unused to Fred's easy affection during particular unexpected moments. Freddie pats his cheek as he clears his throat and focuses on Rog. "Well, I wouldn't say they have minds all the time, but I have definitely gotten into a tussle with a machine," he offers.

Roger shoots out his arm and waves his hand in triumph. "Ta-da! I KNEW it! Thank you Deaks, you've proven my point." 

John smiles at Rog as Brian groans and puts his face in his hands. "But machines haven't got moods, Roger."

"Says you. I know for a fact that stovetop was feeling spiteful, and I'll tell you why--"

"If I had to guess, I'd say it was because you were cursing at it," intones the bassist as he passes a jug of milk to Freddie, who has gotten out a new pot and stirs some pasta in with properly boiled water.

Brian groans from his spot at the table: "Must we carry on with this inane conversation? Roger got cranked off, threw shapes at the stove, it nearly blew up and caught most of my flowers afire. What else do we need to know?"

"--Well the fire alarms in this fucking building must be shit," posits Roger.

Smacking his lips and jabbing a ladle in the air at the drummer, "That's a very valid point, my dear," says Freddie.

"If you've still got a problem, Brian, why don't you write a song about it?"

Staring them all down, Brian can't stop himself from at last letting out a chuckle at this conversation in all of its ridiculousness. He taps his pen upon one edge of the bowl, causing water to ripple round the flowers within. "Maybe I will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really sure where this piece is going, I simply was in the mood to write the boys bickering and being domestic. (And I will say from experience that siblings especially tend to get in disagreements about ridiculous things that make absolutely no sense, cue Brian's bafflement at Roger here ;P )
> 
> Do let me know if you have something you'd care to see. Comments appreciated <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Self-worth issues described below

After Freddie and John finish preparing the rest of their meal, which has pretty much turned from tea to supper by the time they all eat - Roger hopping up to sit and lean against the pillar at the end of their kitchen counter, because Brian had spread out books and papers on the table; not to mention the newly-placed flower bowl, along with one of Freddie's enormous canvases (because he had an idea for a new design piece "Inspiration never stops, darling!"). And once they get in larger places for music gigs there will need to be bombastic costumes and pyrotechnics to knock the audience's socks off.

After that, Freddie strokes Brian's hair and puts a bowl of pasta beside him before running off with Roger to find some fabulous fashion in their closets. First, at any rate, but naturally the exuberant shouted conversation full of shrieking between Fred and Rog leads to quiet surety from John that they will end up running out to Kensington.

The bassist shuffles papers aside to sit with Brian, partly to finish eating his own supper, and partly to clear his throat and tap his fork against his bowl loudly and persistently enough for the guitarist to raise his head. "Bri, there's food," John pushes the bowl Freddie placed at Brian's elbow forward and under the tall man's nose. "You haven't actually eaten yours yet, just so you know," John speaks drily, vocal tone flat. 

Brian had hunkered down and started writing something after their strange little spat hours ago. John half-expects an actual song to come out of it, wouldn't that be just like Brian, he rolls his eyes. But he's also been watching the other man, and something in the rapidity of Bri's breathing, the fits and starts of his words on the page, high amount of tenseness in his shoulders - it all makes John think there's something else to this explosion of paper than mere musical inspiration. 

So he asks, well, in his case, stares stolidly at Brian in silence until Bri says what is on his mind. 

Which doesn't take all that long.

It's a stretch of silence that could be awkward, or have the potential to become that way, were it not for Brian's inability to sit on his feelings for long. He scratches at his hair and pulls the bowl of food towards himself, John's rising eyebrow preceding the clink of Brian's own utensil. "Thank you," he speaks softly, and sees John nod.

"Cheers," the bassist says, pushing his chestnut hair behind his ear, swallowing. Light eyes flickering to the bowl of flowers and back to Brian, "...those look nice," he says.

"Yes, they do," Brian nods, gentle voice sweetening as he adds "It was very kind of you to fix, well, cut and keep them, Deacy."

Deacon nods, lips pressing together, his fingers fluttering. This is it. "Well. Having them here seemed important to you, so." John bobs his head, eyes once more catching Brian's. A nonverbal invitation for Brian to vocalise why is in the young bassist's ever-expressive face, but of course he does not speak it. He isn't one to press. 

Brian knows how reticent Deacy is; sometimes it seems a bit too much, he doesn't know what John wants or needs to hear, and forget knowing what the other man is thinking. His features are incredibly open, yes, but the wherefores of John's thoughts and feelings remain mysterious to Brian. He often blurts out his own feelings and hopes for the best.

Which is a bit of what he's doing now.

"I, yes, they are important to me," Brian circles his bowl with his finger, swallowing hard in his own turn and ducking his face down. "We used to... always have flowers when I was a child, at home." John's eyes widen and he nods a trifle, seemingly understanding. Brian finds himself tracing patterns on the table with his fingers now, not quite cognizant of what he's doing. "...and I feel so far from home. Not that it's a bad thing," he amends quickly, curls wobbling as he jerks his head upright and bumbles out "--I just, the flowers are familiar. Warm. Safe, somehow. They're a part of what makes a place home-like, and...they represent family." His hazel eyes catch John's as Brian reaches across the table, hesitant, unsure. His hand stops beside John's wrist, resting upon the table beside his own bowl. _As you do._ The words are in Brian's head and heart and even his throat, but he cannot speak them aloud in this moment. These three men are so very special and important to him; they are his family, and yet that sentiment is so strong as to be frightening to Brian, because if he says it aloud, if they know what they mean to him....

He closes his eyes, shakes the thought out of his head. Or he tries to, but can't. 

Because what Brian cannot stop himself from thinking is this: Freddie, John, and Roger - they, like his biological family, can surely leave him. He can lose their love. And what's to bind them to him, really, beyond the music? Beyond Queen? Brian cannot keep himself from thinking that, and a yawning gulf opens inside his heart as a snide little hiss says to him, the same part that iterates and reiterates that he is never good enough, 

_... Nothing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brian is having a hard time this chapter, here is more angst than I initially intended to include, but I promise it'll get better, the boys love him very much
> 
> *Brian has spoken in interviews and on Instagram of his struggles with self-worth, and I think that can be taken in connection to the fact that his parents (particularly his father) didn't approve of his choice to put aside the completion of his degree in astrophysics to become a part of Queen. Dear man deals with a lot
> 
> John is here for Brian, though, and he's listening
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	6. Chapter 6

John watches Brian and sees his shoulders start to shake, hears the heavy intake of breath through the other man's nose that doesn't seem to give him enough air, and then Brian's hands tremble and his fork clatters into the bowl, half-empty now, and the long thin fingers of one hand cover Brian's face and rake through his tousled fringe and mussed hair.

The other hand, still resting on the table, clenches into a fist that makes Bri's knuckles bulge, the paleness of his skin even more prominent, almost paper-white save for the stark blue veins along them. John, not knowing precisely what Brian is thinking that could cause such a violent physical reaction, takes Brian's clenched hand in both of his nonetheless. And with as deft a touch as he uses on his bass strings, massages Brian's wrist and palm and fingers, holding onto him in hopes that Bri will loosen his grip. Swallowing hard, John wishes for Roger's bluntness or Freddie's intuitive knack for knowing exactly what to say to help Brian feel better, get him out of his head. 

All that John can think at present, after becoming sure that, in this moment, the fact that Bri's family not speaking to him is dragging him down and really messing him up, is to say "Erm, well, y'know the--the flowers are here. And we're here... together, Brian. I'm here." _For you. I'm here for you, come on, tell him that, John._ Yet the words don't make it past his lips, only manifesting in John's grip on Brian's hand.

He has stood up too, he realises now; he has automatically walked round the side of the table as Brian's blowsy head rises to look up at him. Not too terribly far, as the top of Brian's hair almost reaches the crown of John's head where he now stands beside the guitarist, still holding his hand. He wavers, wondering if he ought to let go and give Brian space, or a hug. Freddie would give him a hug. Roger would too, for sure. John bites his lower lip and lifts one hand off Brian's, now trembling in midair for the briefest instant before he places it onto the guitarist's closer shoulder. Giving Brian a couple pats and then a squeeze as he tries to think of some helpful words. Wishes so badly that he could say something, but true to form, John has no idea what on Earth to say.

Brian looks up at Deacy through a haze of tears as he feels that strong yet hesitant grip upon his shoulder, and as John's fingers tremble and he bites his lip, Brian sees something in those grey-green eyes that causes him to let out an involuntary whimper and shut his own. 

And then, that is when his face is pressed to the soft cloth over a torso and Brian hears the steady beat of a heart. He feels those trembling fingers thread through his hair and the other hand is around his shoulders and back, pressing him to John, who breathes out nothing else but Brian's name and then shushing sounds as he holds Bri and rocks him. Brian thinks suddenly what a fatherly thing that is to do, and lets out a sob as he recalls how stoic and non-demonstrative is his own father. 

Bri's arms both come up to wrap around John's back as he twists in his chair and his fingers clutch the cloth of the bassist's shirt almost convulsively as the guitarist continues whimpering and shaking, trying to calm down. He shouldn't act this way, not around John; he's older, he ought to be strong.

But there are multiple ways of being strong, Brian reflects as John rubs his back and strokes his hair, murmuring - no, _humming_ \- something that sounds almost like a lullaby, something one would sing or whisper to a tiny child in need of comforting.

And though he feels a burst of shame that John would need to do this for him, Brian is also very grateful the other man is here. Quiet, decent, dependable, and able to provide.

John is simply relieved - and glad he figured out something he could do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quiet self-deprecating John isn't certain what to do to help Brian, but he's going to try his hardest and do his best. Dear Deaks :)
> 
> I think John can sing, based on hearing his back-up vocals on songs. He just seems incredibly shy about it
> 
> I imagine this taking place after his oldest son has been born, so John has some experience being a dad
> 
> Sweet Brian, I feel for him so much here.
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	7. Chapter 7

"I found something spectacular, let's show it off, Roger darling!" A trill emanates from Freddie and Roger whoops in enjoyment, following the singer out of the hall leading to their bedrooms at a good clip. 

Both stop as John's face lifts up and Brian turns his head out of its place formerly buried against the bassist's chest, arms dropping just a bit from around John's back. Somehow in the midst of Brian's trembling and tears John had ended up on his lanky lap, still providing comfort, just with even more physical contact. His feet hang over the side of the chair and one of Brian's knees shifts to the side as "Well fuck, who decided to have a cuddle and not invite us to join in? I for one am offended, Fred" the drummer bounces over, hand instantly shoving at Brian's cheek and hair kiddingly, but upon the sight of the guitarist's reddened eyes his hand slows and its touch ends up being gentle. Roger lowers his voice to a gentle growl. "Brian, mate, you alright?"

Brian swallows and looks at John, whose arm is still around Brian's shoulder and he rubs his fingertips in a little circle. The crinkling of skin around his eyes precedes a nod and Brian is able to legitimately smile. "...Yeah," he dips his head, nods. "I am now." With an apologetic glance and extension of his hand he adds "Truthfully I didn't know there was going to be a cuddle..."

"--But come on, Roger," John puts in. "And Freddie, we've got to see your newest outfit, yeah?"

Brian sniffs and wipes his eyes, nods. "Right, yes, that's incredibly important, far more than my little--" waves his other hand as Roger comes right in to hold onto him and John.

"Nonsense, darling!" Freddie runs and joins their embrace.

Roger says at practically the same time "Shut the fuck up, Brian," and all four end up layered upon and around one another, Freddie's arms in his newest silky garment flung around Brian and Rog, head resting against John's. Roger has pressed his body against John's and face right next to Brian's, forcing him by any means necessary - mostly with a squinty-eyed glower - to stop negating his own feelings, whatever they are, and accept the other three with all their love for him. John smiles and relaxes back into Roger and Freddie even whilst keeping his arm around Brian. 

And Brian feels as much brightness and warmth as he'd thought to feel by procuring and placing flowers around their flat. Turns out this is as excellent a comfort, if not a wholly better one.

Burying himself in his band family's embrace, Brian breathes and relaxes, feeling calm and content in this moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well if Brian wasn't sure the other guys would be bonded to him without the band, I hope this particular interaction would do a lot to dispell that.
> 
> I don't know why but I needed John to somehow get in Brian's lap (that's happened with me and a friend before, and something about the weight of a person can be comforting. It's grounding in a sense, I think. At least I find it to be so)
> 
> Please let me know if you'd like to read more of this piece - I think this works as its end but am not averse to adding a bit.
> 
> Hope you are all well!
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


End file.
